#he literally defended ch earlier this year like. how many more breaks are you gonna give him 😭

[comraderoscoes]

ok but like … how many times are you gonna yell “do better daniel!!” or beg him to get a new PR team before accepting that at this point he clearly doesn’t want to do better. this is him, not his PR team forcing this upon him. these are the people he’s comfortable hanging around with, giggling and laughing with.

[lucacangettathisass]

how the light gets in (ch. 8)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list just lmk!

NOTES: so sorry for the slow update! ive been doing some full on hours at work (my manager literally told me that im doing full time hours despite being part time lmao rip) so that’s been leaving me a little drained lmao but hey at least we got there!

more mentions of low self esteem, those are gonna be a lot more prevalent from here on out actually.

on another note, i’ve been wondering if i should rewrite this as an oc fic rather than a reader one. thoughts? i might not even do it, but im curious to hear what you guys think.

anyways, hope you all enjoy! and dont forget, likes are nice but reblogs are what motivate creators the most!

p.s. pls check out waking up slow by mountainhymn!!!! it is so wonderful im still crying

“Well, it really all started with my momma.” You felt yourself begin to fidget and made an effort to stand completely still. “She got a job working for a wealthy Russian widow, Mrs Zamolodchikova.”

Mr Morgan let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a name.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “A lot of Russian names are like that. As I was saying, she hired my momma to be a maid when I was still very young. Mrs Zamolodchikova treated us very well, we even lived in a little cottage she had on her land.”

Despite all the years that had passed, you still thought of that cottage fondly. It had been small and not impressive by any means, but it had been your home for most of your childhood. You had a lot of good memories of it.

“I...I lost my momma when I was seven.” Even now, twelve years later, it hurt to say. Your mother had been your whole world, everything began and ended with her, and it had never once occurred to you when you were a child, that you would one day have to face the world without her. She loved you too much to do that to you. And then it happened anyway.

You had never experienced a heart break like it before, or since.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Mr Matthews said gently.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to speak around the lump that always formed in your throat whenever you thought about losing your mother. “She had been ill for as long as I could remember, it was only a matter of time.”

“I imagine your aunt and uncle took you in?”

“They wanted to, but Mrs Zamolodchikova stepped in. She said that she saw it as her Christian duty to take me in as a ward, and that’s what I became.” It had stunned you at the time to learn that Mrs Zamolodchikova cared for you that much. You would always be grateful for her kindness, it had changed your life. “She had no children of her own, so I think she wanted me to fill that gap.”

“That was very kind of her.” Mr Matthews sounded surprised, and you supposed that it made sense. You couldn’t imagine that he had come across many people willing to take in the child of an employee, particularly among the rich. You certainly had never seen such a thing in your time among them.

You nodded in agreement. “She taught me etiquette and how to behave in upper class circles, and as I got older I became her companion. That was how I met Mr Cornwall.”

A spark appeared in Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes, and you knew that you really had his full interest now. “How did that come about?”

“He was looking for investors in his business, he was just starting out you see, and he needed some capital.”

“So he went to Mrs Zamolodchikova?” Mr Van Der Linde asked. “She must’ve been rather rich.”

“Exceedingly so.” You said. “Her family is very old Russian money, and when she came to America with her husband, her wealth only grew, even after he died. I imagine Mr Cornwall thought that if he could convince her to invest, he would have an easy time of building his empire.”

“Did he?” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes sparkled with a kind of devious curiosity, the kind most often found in children. “Convince her to invest that is.”

“I’m afraid not. Mrs Zamolodchikova found him rather...disagreeable.” A part of you still cringed on the inside just thinking about that meeting. It had started off well, and Mr Cornwall had certainly been polite enough, but once his true character came out, it all started to go downhill rather rapidly.

“In what way?”

You hesitated slightly. “Well, I mean, one doesn’t wish to disparage others when they don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves.”

A chuckle came from Mr Van Der Linde, and you even saw a corner of Mr Morgan’s mouth twitch.

“We just want your honest opinion, that’s all.” Mr Matthews assured you. “No need to be disparaging.”

You paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. “Mr Cornwall...well, Mrs Zamolodchikova and I found him to be rather...brusque and arrogant. When Mrs Zamolodchikova turned down his request, he got rather upset and he seemed to take it as a personal affront.”

“She must’ve grown to regret that.” Mr Van Der Linde mused.

“Not at all. Mrs Zamolodchikova was happy for him of course, but she was also happy she rejected him. She said she couldn’t imagine being in business with someone so...tasteless.”

“Tasteless in what way?” Mr Matthews asked.

“Well he was...very new money.” When you saw the looks of confusion on the mens’ faces, you tried to think of a better way to phrase it. “He was something of a show off, and a little gaudy. He wore a lot of gold, I imagine to try and impress, but it came off as vain and rather insecure. Mrs Zamolodchikova was very critical of that kind of thing, and when she saw how self aggrandizing he became after his success, she grew to dislike him even more.”

Mr Van Der Linde nodded slowly, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “It sounds like you’ve lead a rather interesting life.”

“I suppose you could say that.” Your eyes roamed over the two older men again. “I imagine that wasn’t the kind of information you wanted, my apologies Mr Van Der Linde.”

Despite your fears, the black haired man smiled and waved a hand. “It’s fine Miss [Last name]. I was just curious, that’s all. Javier, why don’t you walk her back to where she’s staying?”

“Sure thing boss.”

You turned to leave with Mr Escuella, but you hesitated just as he put a hand on the door knob. “Wait.” All eyes were back on you, and you felt yourself flush, but you felt that you needed to get this out. “I just-I just wanted to add that Mr Cornwall is a very powerful man, and in my opinion, and in the opinion of mutual acquaintances that he and I share, he is lead more by pride and ego than wisdom. He doesn’t take insults lightly and can be rather harsh.” You were very careful and deliberate with your words, not wanting to seem like you knew better, but still wanting to convey your feelings of apprehension.

Mr Van Der Linde raised an eyebrow, and you got the feeling that he understood what you were trying to say. “Duly noted Miss.”

You nodded, and turned back to Mr Escuella, this time actually following him outside.

“You must’ve lived a pretty good life for a while.”

You shrugged and felt yourself blush heavily. “I suppose.” It always somewhat embarrassed you, knowing how different your life had been from other people, especially those who were born into the same class as yourself. “I honestly just think I got lucky.” You looked down at your feet. “Don’t feel so lucky now though.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying.

“Sorry.” You said softly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my woes.”

“It’s ok.” Mr Escuella assured you, his voice kind again. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you have a right to let your feelings out.”

You looked at Mr Escuella in surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it like that. “You’re very kind.” You said sincerely. “Sadie might not think so but I certainly do.”

That brought a bright smile to Mr Escuella’s face, which made you smile in turn. You always enjoyed making people smile, it made you feel good, and you felt that it proved that you were useful and worth something for once.

“You’re a sweet kid.” Mr Escuella’s eyes were shining, although you couldn’t hazard a guess as to why. “Don’t let anyone beat that out of you, ok?”

“I-Ok.” You weren’t sure how else you should respond, being so unused to compliments from strangers. You watched as he held the door to the house with the other women open. “Are you not coming in?”

“Nah.” He smiled. “You stay warm ok?”

“Of course, and you as well Mr Escuella.” You went inside, and no sooner was the door closed that you were practically swarmed by Miss Jones, Miss Gaskill, and Miss Jackson.

“What did they want?”

“You weren’t gone for very long, did everything go alright?”

“Are you allowed to say?”

You felt yourself flush as you tried to keep track of who was asking which question. “It was nothing special.” You said. “They just wanted to know how I knew Mr Cornwall.”

Of course they all also wanted to know, and so you told them what you had told Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, Mr Morgan, and Mr Escuella-omitting your warning at the end.

Much like the men, they were stunned to hear your story.

“So you grew up pretty well to do.” Miss Jones said, in a tone that sounded impressed and envious.

“I-Well, yes, I suppose.” The embarrassment from earlier had returned. “I was extremely privileged.”

“What was it like?” Miss Gaskill asked, sounding wistful. “Being in that world?”

You paused, trying to think of a good way to describe it.

“When I was a little girl, it was dazzling.” You confessed. “All those men and women in their finery...it looked like an entirely different world. Like a fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” Miss Jackson raised a brow. “Meet any prince charmings?”

You laughed. “I met some well to do gentlemen if that’s what you mean.”

“I think she means suitors.” Miss Gaskill said with a giggle, and an eager look on her face. “Well, did you?”

“Oh!” A scorching heat unlike any of the others from before overcame you, and you felt your throat dry up. “I-Well-no.” You stammered, looking askance out of embarrassment.

“Really?”

You looked up and saw Miss Roberts looking at you with surprise. “You mean none of them tried to…” She trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blank.

“Not at all.” You said, your flush worsening. “After all, I was just a maid’s daughter.”

And therein lies the rub.

No matter how much you learned or how you dressed or how you behaved, everyone knew that you were just the daughter of a maid who Mrs Zamolodchikova had taken pity on. Most of them had been polite enough, but that boundary had always been there, and always would be. You had grown accustomed to it, the way one would grow accustomed to a permanent limp. And it left you with what you imagined would be the same level of alienation. It was one of the many unfortunate side effects of being born as yourself, and one you had learned how to deal and navigate the world with.

But it would always be a fairy tale to you. Beautiful, grand, never within your reach no matter how well you knew it. And you would always be that little girl that chased after it with every breath in her chest.

[gold-daegu]

Absence: Ch. V

Summary:

Leaving the small town you’ve lived in for 8 years was a breath of fresh air, a new beginning. However when you cross paths with one of Seoul’s nefarious crime syndicate, you’ll wish you never left home.

A/n: GOD this is the absolute worst chapter ever. I got stuck so many times and after all of my editing I’m still not happy with it. AnywayY/n got where I wanted her to be so I guess that’s okay

Warnings: Language, Acts of Violence, suggestive themes, sexual scenes.

-   -   -

The next few moments seemed to pass slowly.

Jungkook whispered something incoherent into the intruder’s ear before he shoved him toward the door roughly, watching him scamper out of the room and the apartment. You watched as Jungkook’s chest heaves, his gaze dark as he made sure that your attacker would not return.

You on the other hand, were damn near close to bawling your eyes out. Your hand was clutching your throat, the bleeding not serious but the sight of blood was horrifying after the escapade that just went down. A choked whimper left your lips, silent tears escaping your eyes.

The pathetic sound had caught Jungkook’s attention. His harsh stare turning towards the figure that was slowly sliding down the wall, tears running down plush cheeks non-stop. He took a deep breath, getting back into character and making his way over to you.

“Y/n” He called softly, “It’s clear, he won’t be coming back anytime soon.” While he thought his words would be comforting, the only response he got was a few quiet sniffles. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to do next. Knowing the enemy was gone would be enough to comfort him, but he had to remember that you weren’t like him.

He sucked in a breath, building up the will to do the only thing he could recall as a normal comforting measure. He bent down slowly, sitting beside you, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He felt your body stiffen at his foreign touch, but you leaned into him nevertheless.

He sat there with you as you cried into his shoulder, an awkward pat on the back from Jungkook was all the extra comfort you were going to get. He was there for you, albeit not emotionally, but physically he was a decent source of peace.

His mind was elsewhere. The events of tonight told Jungkook exactly what he wanted to know; Jase was alive and very well aware of your whereabouts. This was a turn around for him, it completely changed the rules of the game. You are now an extremely important playing piece and he needed to defend you at all costs.

You pulled away finally, wiping your eyes gently with the sleeve of his white button up that you were still wearing. With one last sniffle you nodded to yourself, “T-Thank you, Jungkook.” Tears filled your eyes once more, “ For-- For sa-saving me.” You found yourself going back to his shoulder to hide your face in embarrassment.

This time he was the one to pull you back, hands on your shoulders as he made eye contact with you. “He’s gone, but we have to leave now.” His eyes traveled over your features, drifting over your puffy eyes and down to the cut that was still faintly bleeding. He let out a heavy breath, taking your hand and wiping the blood away with the sleeve of his shirt. Yet another that has been ruined. There goes his clean streak.

He released his grip, standing suddenly and offering out a hand, “Do you trust me?”

You stared up at the dark haired boy, his eyes twinkling yet filled with so much determination. The earlier fight echoed in your mind, how quickly he came to help you and how fiercely the young male protected you. You could trust this man.

You allowed him to pull you to your feet. You both stood in silence for a moment as he allowed you to compose yourself before he helped you pack. He backed away, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Gather some things you’ll need. Change your clothes. We’re not gonna be back for a while.”

He left through the bedroom door, not going too far from you just in case someone tries to enter through the window; though he doubted that would happen.

He pulled out his phone, unlocking it swiftly he found his hyung’s number, dialing immediately.

He lowered his voice as he heard the other voice break the silence, “I’ve got a lead, but circumstances have changed.”

The other voice hummed, “I see, are you bringing her here?”

Jungkook paused, Taehyung would be furious if he found out that Jungkook wrapped you up into this life, but if he didn’t you could potentially slip away from him. He nodded to himself, “Yeah. Don’t tell Taehyung.”

You shuffled around the room, trying not to think of tonight’s earlier events and trying not to think about how scary Jungkook was when he came to your aid, how emotionless he was.

Shaking the thoughts from your head you wandered over to the semi empty closet, pulling out the few clothes you managed to hang up and shove them into your black duffel bag. You threw the bag onto the floor, scurrying over to the living room where Jungkook had just hung up the phone. You barely spare him a glance as you search through the piles of laundry for some clothes to change into, but you could feel his eyes fixated on you the entire time.

You settled on a black and white striped shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, which would go nicely with the green army jacket you found. You stepped over a few pots and pans you had drug out a few days ago to get to your shoes, but somehow managed to trap your foot in the handle of one. You yelped and stumbled over to your destination, earning a small chuckle from the dark-haired male who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

A small smile spread over your cheeks, swiping your pair of black converses from the floor and rising to offer a cheeky grin to Jungkook. He shook his head at you, casting his gaze back to his phone, “Go get dressed.”

-   -   -

You slipped out of your room, in a new attire and a large duffel bag in grip. You sigh, not wanting to leave again, but you knew it was inevitable. You turned the corner and came face to face with Jungkook who was a less shocked than you were at the sudden appearance.

“You scared me.” You gasped, a hand coming up to your heart.

He looked you over, nodding and shuffles to the front door, “You look good, if that’s all you need then we should go ASAP.” He murmured as he checked the hallway once looking back at you for a reaction, an answer.

You gaped. Did Jungkook just say you looked good? Your heart warmed, confidence laced your veins suddenly. The idea that such a good-looking person thought you were also looking good today only fueled your ego.

Nevertheless you nodded away, shaking off the ridiculous feeling off. Your motion gave him the okay to move forward, quietly and swiftly making his way down the hallway with you in tow. He moved into the lift, pushing the button for ground level without a hint of hesitation. You grunt, slinging yourself into the small room before the metal doors closed on you.

Upon your arrival the brown eyed male beside you had taken your bag, slinging it over his shoulder effortlessly, “We’ll be moving slower if I let you carry it.” He explained offhandedly. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, casting the male an exasperated glance before following him through the lobby and out onto the ever busy streets.

It was awkward to say the least, especially since he took his sweet time in walking, allowing you to lead the way to a place you’ve never been to. You arrived at a bus stop a little ways past the one you usually took to work each day, “Are you at least going to tell me where we’re going?”

Your question went unanswered as the faded blue bus rolled up with a squeal of brakes. The covergirl advertisement was peeling off the side and the faces in the foggy windows were a series of exhausted 9 to 5 workers who had seemingly had a bad day. Jungkook began boarding the bus, taking your bag with him without a second thought.

You huff and board after him, a wave of musty aroma hitting your nose suddenly and causing your stomach to lurch in the slightest; someone seriously needed a shower. There were nearly no seats which left only a few dangling handles from the ceiling, but you’d take those over sitting next to a complete stranger. You follow after Jungkook, reaching the back of the bus near the emergency exit and watching him take a seat, plopping your bag in the floor in front of him. You blink, blindly reaching for a handle and averting your gaze from the quiet male. There was a seat next to him, but that also meant a seat beside a sleazy man who was already eye-fucking you in his seat and you were not about to put yourself in a position beside him.

The bus rolled to a start, the doors squeaking shut as it went. You moved out of the way of others, letting them take their seats and take hold of their handles. Jungkook glanced up at you, sighing and rolling his eyes, “There’s literally a seat right next to me.” He watched as you bite your lip, shaking your head and gesturing to the man with your eyes, hoping Jungkook would take the hint and not make you sit beside him.

Though of course, Jungkook didn’t get the hint and instead raised his brows and patted the seat next to him with pursed lips. You let out an uncomfortable laugh and sat down, scooting as close as you could to Jungkook without making him groan in annoyance.

It wasn’t even two minutes after you sat down that you felt the man scoot closer to you, putting his hand in the limited space between you and brushing against your thigh. Your heart lurches, hoping that it wasn’t what it seemed like and scooting impossibly closer to the dark haired male. He looked down at you with sharp eyes, noting how much you’ve pushed yourself against him with calculating eyes.

The sleazy man chuckled to himself darkly, slipping his hand onto your thigh with a bold squeeze, and that is when you snapped. You jerk, surprising both parties beside you in that moment, “Don’t fucking touch me.” You growled, grabbing his hand and bending his middle finger back farther than it should go.

The dirty man cries out in pain, tugging on his hand with his free one and falling out of his seat onto the floor. You release his finger, kicking him away and causing him to fall back into the bus aisle. Curious gazes come from all around, the bus swerving to the side and screeching to a rough halt.

Jungkook leans forward when the bus driver stomps back with an annoyed but confused look upon his wrinkled face. He gives you a hard look, glancing from the man’s swollen finger to you, “Miss you’re gonna have to exit the bus, this is assault.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, did this old man just-- hell no. Jungkook grabs your hand and giving it a squeeze, a silent sign saying that he’d take it from here. He gives the bus driver a deadly look, “You’re right, this is assault, but he isn’t the victim.” The old man chokes on his words suddenly, eyes wide as he struggles to even breathe.

Jungkook smirks and looks through the window, “We’re close enough.” He stands abruptly, taking your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, stepping over the male still clutching his finger and pushing past the old man with you in tow.

The street was somewhat abandoned, safe for a few straggling thugs who scatter at the sight of Jungkook. You turn back to glare at the bus driver, but he’s too afraid to meet your eyes from the driver’s seat. You huff, turning your attention back to the street before you, watching as Jungkook released your hand and trudged onwards past sketchy alleyways and deserted buildings calmly.

You two walk in silence for quite some time before he speaks up, voice so soft you could mistake it as wind, “You handled yourself pretty well back there.” Your head turns to him, watching curiously as he makes his way expertly through the streets. Almost like he knew it all too well.

“So who taught you?”

His question takes you off guard, your answer tumbling out of your lips before you even had time to think, “My brother did.” His ears perked up, a curious gaze now trained intently on your every move, “I assume you’re close with him then?”

You shake your head, eyes shifting nervously to the side, “I haven’t spoken to him in quite some time…” You purse your lips. It wasn’t uncommon for others to question your lack of family, and it wasn’t uncommon for you to dodge their questions with a change of subject. You force a smile, “Do you live near here?”

No response from him, just another question, “Overprotective?”

You blink. He wasn’t going to let up this time, that much was obvious. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to talk about Jase, you would love to do just that. But anytime you do as much as mention his name, bad things happen to you and the people around you. You’ve learned your lesson; your brother’s existence was not something to be discussed lightly.

You danced around the subject as much as you can while still answering him. Anything to get the dark eyed man off of your case for at least a moment, “Wouldn’t you be too?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Never had to be.”

He took a sharp turn suddenly, walking into a more shaded area, the sun sinking further past the tall buildings to your left. He pauses suddenly, “You’re so guarded. You’d think we’d be more open after that scare back there.” Frustration, wasn’t a great term to use to describe his feelings. No it wasn’t that serious, nor was he that bothered by your aloof nature. It seemed as if you knew he wanted this information from you and were protecting your brother at all costs. But you couldn’t know his purpose.

He sighs, “Let’s make a deal,” he offered with doe eyes boring into your own, “Ask me anything you want to know, and in return, I get to do the same.” You squint your eyes at him, “Why do you care so much?”

A shy smile crosses his lips, “You can’t blame a guy for wanting to get to know a girl.” He ducks his head down, looking anywhere but at you in that moment. Your heart picks up it’s steady pace, “Okay then.” You decided to start with the basics, the need-to-know questions.

“Where are we going?” Simple enough to answer. He answers smoothly, “To my place, well sort of.”

“What made your brother teach you some of those self-defense techniques?” You stumble, your sneaker getting clipped on an uneven sidewalk. As long as you don’t mention him specifically in your own words, it should be okay… right?

You grimace, “Growing up there was a ton of crime around us, meaning robberies, break-ins, and my dad was even mugged at one point.” The memories weren’t fond, the sight of your father stumbling through the front door, holding his shoulder as it seeped crimson through his clothes; it’s a sight you’ll never unsee. You clear your throat, “He-- everyone thought we would be better off learning some basic techniques just in case, y’know?”

He hummed, turning down a small alleyway between two brick buildings, “I get it. Your brother must have a ton of experience then?” You shrugged at this, “I guess so.”

The gears in his mind start turning, you must not be aware of what your older brother is doing behind closed doors. Although he has left a messy trail behind after not tying up his one loose end; you.

You pause, seizing in your place as you glance around at your surroundings. The neighbourhood was shady, even more so than yours which was as sketch as you thought it could get. He turns on his heel, cocking his head to the side and making his way back to you.

“I don’t like this,” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest and glancing around, “Can we please go somewhere else?” He sighs, coming back to your side and placing a hand on the middle of your back, ushering you forward down the street, “You’re safe here, trust me.”

You purse your lips, the mood dropping was not going to be your fault. So you nudge his arm softly, “How about you? Got a family?” He scoffed, continuing his long strides with you in tow, craning his head around the corner once more before walking up to a sealed garage door, a large one at that. He slammed his fist on the metal three or four times before he turned to you with a small smile, “Something like that.” When he received no answer he tried again, “Park,” He began with a low voice, “Hurry the fuck up.”

The door slides up at Jungkook’s words revealing a shorter male with twinkling brown eyes and a set of very pouty lips under a button nose. He runs a hand through his ash brown hair, causing the locks to fall in a careless yet elegant manner; you’re tempted to run your hands through them yourself. His eyes shift from Jungkook to you, cocking his head to the side and letting out a hiss of air through his lips.

“Jeon,” he says quietly sparing you a side glance, “Why did you… I need to speak with you, alone.” Jungkook rolls his eyes at his elder, “Not now.” He pushes his way inside, pulling you close behind him by gripping your hand in his own.

You had barely passed the threshold when the man called Park jerked Jungkook back to him by the arm, causing you to stumble into his back, “I said now”  He rumbled darkly.

Jungkook raised a brow and glared into the brunettes eyes, “And I said not now.” They stared at each other for a few minutes before Park  dropped his arm, a scoff of disbelief leaving his thick lips..

He steps out of the way, watching carefully as you enter without another word. The metal slammed closed behind you, making you jump and grab onto the first thing in reach-- which would be Jungkook’s arm.

Your eyes adjust to the dim light, your heart hammering against your chest as you take in your new environment.

It was quite an adjustment, one of the lights in the room was blown out leaving the job of lighting the area to one little bulb. The area, however, wasn’t what you expected. Leather couches sit in a large area to the right of you, a man with a familiar mop of baby pink hair was sitting on an armchair, reading a thick book quietly. Your lips quirked up at the sight; was that Jin?

You open your mouth to call out to him, his name on the very edge of your tongue when suddenly Park rushes into your line of vision. His eyes are calculating and slightly sultry as he sized you up, his brows furrowing. With pursed lips he switches sides, leaning in to whisper something into Jungkook’s ear as he lulls the taller male to a halt.

Jungkook nods silently with a clenched jaw, watching the other male part ways into the sitting area you were looking at earlier before he finally acknowledges your grip. He tugs his arm slightly to gain your attention, “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

Further into the building, up the stairs, and down the hall to the bottom left door is where he led you to. A plain room with white walls and little to no decorations, even the bedsheets were a dull black shade. The windows were covered by long gray curtains, leaving only a small bulb to light the spacious room up. The night stand was bare safe for a small lamp, a charger, and a pair of earbuds being messily thrown across the dark wood, the desk in the corner of the room was littered in books, untouched for ages it seems. The room was monochrome, much like the man that stood beside you.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and shutting the door behind him with his foot, “You should get some sleep, it’s been a rough day.” He watched with careful eyes as you wandered around the room a little, taking in every detail-- which wasn’t all that hard. You found a seat on the end of the bed, glancing over your shoulder at Jungkook who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

“Is this your room?” The question caught him off guard, your voice soft and curious, “It basically screams Jungkook.” His eyes glinted with playfulness, lips twitching up in a smile, “What’s that supposed to mean?” You shrug nonchalantly, “I mean it’s pretty monochrome and not much to look at--”

“Damn that’s cold,” he interrupts with a click of his tongue, he feigns hurt, placing a hand over his heart. You flash a smile his way, this is the lightest the air has been since you left your apartment today. It was refreshing.

The door twists open revealing the pink haired man you wanted to call out to so badly. He beams at you, his eyes crinkling into crescents, “Hey Y/n.” He doesn’t enter the room, keeping his body outside as his head peaks inside.

You stand, your eyes lighting up. God it felt nice to see a friendly face, but… did he live here too? Brushing your questions aside for now you toss up a hand into a wave, “Jin! It’s so nice to see you again.” You move to get closer but he pulls away slightly, a silent sign to not come closer. He gives an apologetic smile and turns his attention to Jungkook who watched the interaction with a blank stare.

“Kook,” He announces, catching the younger’s attention. He gives you a quick glance, lowering his voice and whispering something in Jungkook’s direction, somehow low enough for it to go unnoticed by your ears.

Without another word he slips out of the doorway, leaving a deafening silence in his wake. He looks over in your direction, “I’ve got to go figure out arrangements, get some rest.” He moves to leave, not waiting for a response, but you give one anyway, “Sure thing, Kook.”

He froze, turning to give you a cold look over his shoulder. God, it took everything in you to keep the smug smile present on your face while he was giving you such an icy glare. He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval before he left the room.

The room felt colder, more empty than it had felt earlier with Jungkook in your presence. With a sigh you flop back onto the bed exhausted, but there’s no way you could fall asleep now. You turn on your side, viewing the desk in the corner and skimming your eyes over the spines of the books. He had good taste, that is if he actually read those books. You slide off the bed and make your rounds around the room, taking notice of each item in hope of finding more about Jungkook.

You hover around the desk, Trying the drawers only to find most of them jammed shut. Although when you jiggled the bottom left drawer, it opened. Inside underneath an old spiral notebook was a picture, slightly burned around the edges and burning out another figure. From what you could tell it was a younger Jungkook, probably around the age of 11 with someone much older than him that he didn’t particularly like being with judging by his sad expression.

Your lips pursed in thought; he didn’t have a great family most likely and that’s why he was so aloof about their existence. You click your tongue in disappointment, putting the memory away and closing the drawer as if it was never opened. You sigh and pulled away from the area, instead moving to sit on the bed next to the nightstand. Your eyes shift down to the drawers, were these stuck too? Or did they open? You reach down and tug on the knobs but to no avail. However you did manage to send his charger flying halfway under the bed; very smooth move on your part.

You slide off the plush mattress to pick up the cord, but there was something else there, just under the lip of the bed frame. Your brows furrow, sliding the charger back onto the night stand before you sink lower into the floor, reaching out for the unknown object. The rough pattern followed by a sudden chill of metal threw you, tugging on the item and pulling out into the light.

Your breath hitched, your heart stuck in your throat. It was a gun. Why would Jungkook need a gun? You bend down further, palming the underside of the bed for further evidence, more information on why the gun was there.

Further under the bed, just barely out of reach was a black metal box no bigger than your hand. Giving it a look over you pop open the lid, setting it to the side and carding through photos of people. You let out a breathy laugh; it was just pictures of his friends. Most of these pictures look candid and zoomed in though, which isn’t too out of the ordinary, but every picture was like that.

You frown and set them to the side, underneath it all was a piece of notebook paper folded up neatly. God you wished you’d never opened it. Scribbled messily into even columns was a list of names, some scratched out and some underlined heavily. With brows knit together you read through the names, quickly noticing how many of the scratched out names you’ve seen reported on the news at work. You gulp, wanting to throw the paper away and get out as fast as possible, but instead you kept reading to uncover how many Jungkook had potentially… dealt with.

At the bottom of the page, circled in red pen many times was a name you were all too familiar with; Jase L/n. A squeak left your lips, finally having the courage to fling the paper to the side and back away from it all. Jungkook’s constant prodding made sense now, how unnaturally interested he was in your life and your family.

It explains how he wasn’t phased by the attack at your apartment and how easily he handled the situation. It explains why your first meeting went the way it did.

You stand and make your way to the door, already sure on what must be done. You have to get out of here.

You deem the rest of the building unsafe, deciding that anyone who lived with Jungkook could be affiliated with what he does, even Jin. There was only one other way you could get out of this room and that was the window. You lock the door before swiftly moving to unlatch the window, popping the netting screen out of place and peeking your head out. This was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but it was the only thing you could do.

You swing your leg over the lip of the window and find stable footing on the thin exterior ledge just outside. The breeze wrapped itself around you, inviting you to step out and see the sinking sun in all its glory. Your heart thundered as you gripped onto the window, keeping one foot on the ledge and letting the other swing freely in search of another safe landing.

Your eyes screwed shut, “It’s just like rock climbing” You thought to yourself. Even though your arms screamed tiredly you hung on with some unknown energy. Your leg dangles in front of the window below you, finding footing on the ledge and maneuver your way down. One more level to go and you’ll be low enough to run.

From the corner of your vision you see a figure rushing towards the window, causing you to jerk and fumble to move out of the way. You let out a shaky breath, “What was that?” The window slides open just as you make a move to slide over, a panicked shriek passing your lips as they grip onto your torso and pull you inside.

Your back hits the floor roughly, knocking the breath out of you for a moment. Your eyes snap open to a familiar face hovering over you; Namjoon. Your throat closed, his brows wrinkling at your flabbergasted expression, “What are you doing here?” The weight on your pinned wrists gets heavier.

Taking his pause as an advantage you break the hold on your wrists with your arms, kicking away from him and scrambling towards the door.

You throw the door open openly to come to a halt. Long arms in case themselves around your body just as you try to turn back, a strangled sob leaving your lips; you just want to go home. You try to shake free from his grip but only manage to tighten his grip, “Please,” You whimper.

The sudden sounds of footsteps cause your head to jerk to the side, watching as three males pace over to you with blank expressions. You resist once more, your gaze unwavering as you fearfully tried to identify the men. Two were walking side by side while one fell behind only slightly, one of the two was someone you recognized; Jin.

Damn your heart cracked a little at the sight of his cold aura, a polar opposite of the Jin you met in Taehyung’s apartment.

Taehyung…

God you missed him more than ever. Sure he pissed you off pretty badly, but you’d rather be with him eating Rice Krispies treats until you’re sick of them. Would he look for you? Does he even know you’re missing? After all, he doesn’t even know where you went after your argument and there’s no way he’d know where Jungkook took you. The blond was your only hope at maybe getting out of here, but at the same time… you hoped he stayed far away from this mess.

The shorter of the two clicked his tongue distastefully, “Now now J, let’s not be so violent towards our guest.” He eyed me carefully, cocking his head to the side in interest, you were quite the sight. He took a step forward, looking into the open doorway and seeing traces of shock on Namjoon’s normally stoic face.

His hand found your face before his eyes did, cold fingers tracing over your cheeks in a feather-like fashion. He hums, tilting your face ever so delicately as he observed you, “Just who do you think you are to cause so much trouble for my family?” You jerk away from his grip just as he releases, rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

“Jeon,” He lazily mutters, waiting for the male to come forth.

Jungkook steps closer, eyes averted to the floor as if he couldn’t look at you. Your heart lurches with relief, “Jungkook!” You cry out, twisting in Hoseok’s grasp. Your arms strains against his grip, but you manage to break free with minimal injury.

He takes a hold of your arms as they stretched outwards and uses them against you. You’re slammed back against his chest, his arms overlapping your own so that you no longer have an advantage. Honestly, you wanted to bawl your eyes out.

Leaving your hometown was such a mistake on your half. All you’ve gotten since coming here is grief, trouble, and a new respect for all of those ignored safety PSAs. You just wanted to go home at this point, just leave this godforsaken place and go back to living with Jon. A new start isn’t worth all of the hell you’ve been put through.

The man that seems to be in charge huffs,”Well if you’re going to continue being a troublemaker…” He pauses and meets your eyes cooly,  offering a cunning smirk, “Take her to solitary, Jin.”

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July 6th 2019

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 9

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Physical violence, crime(?), SMUT

A/N:  This is the longest chapter of Stay I’ve done but I just couldn’t bring myself to break it up into two small chapters. I’m just gonna come out and say that after the cut is just a chunk of smut, sweet sweet smut (I’m still feeling some kind of way about the smut I write but whatever it’s fun). And don’t these two deserve some smut?! 

I hope y’all are still enjoying these ladies as we kind of go on this winding journey with them. This one is so different in pace from my other stuff, that it kind of throws me a bit and I worry I’m not building enough up here. But -shrug- Oh anxiety how I love you making me question literally EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN THING I DO. 

Still I’m so happy this happens to be my last fic post of 20-GAYteen (I mean I pushed this to today just to make sure it was lol). Gay smutty and emotional. Perfect ending to a stressful year lol.

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf  @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight  @jeromethepsycho @daniellajocelyn @marvel-randomness @katecolleen  @yanginginthere @buckysstar

You don’t care about the money. Sure it was the biggest payout you had ever agreed to, yes the money would be a great cushion, hell you could stop working for a bit. But you had been in enough tight spots throughout your whole life that you knew when to cut and run.

Back in your hotel, you throw your things into your bag, double check the few weapons you carry, and leave out the back formulating an escape plan as you go. A car would be the best option, the airport was too risky, too visible. So you head to the closest car park and plan to jump the shittiest car you can find.

As you jimmy the door of an old Peugeot you sense someone approaching you, the vibe distinctly making you think of that Brock fuck from earlier. You spin and a knife just misses you. Grabbing your bag you run. At the edge of the lot he catches you and slams you into the brick wall you face scraping against it.

“You know,” he growls in your ear, his breath hot and damp, “Pretty girls like you really shouldn’t be out alone at night.” You push back against him testing his weight and stance and he presses harder, “This is really going to be much easier for you if you just play along.”

He can’t see the sly smile that curls your lips. This wasn’t the first man to think he could easily get the drop on you. Before you could have defended yourself well enough, but now… Thanks, Honey, you think as you kick his feet from under him and slam your elbow into his face as he falls. Just like Natasha showed you.

He is, however, tough. In an instant he’s up, nose bleeding, “Oh, I’m going to enjoy fucking you up now.”

“I bet,” you drawl you lip curling up in disgust. He lunges at you and there’s the perfect moment for you to use Natasha’s headlock. It’s as satisfying as you anticipated. You don’t have to try to knock him unconscious though. Thighs squeezing his throat you rest your hands on his head. Initially, your intention is to do to him what you had done to the merc in the warehouse, completely rupture his brain, but he slams you both onto the hood of a car before you’re able. Not before you can do just enough to render him unconscious though.  

He slides down the hood from between your legs and you try to get breath back into your lungs and fight the spinning in your head from slamming it into the car’s windshield. There wasn’t time to gather yourself though. You had to assume he wasn’t alone. Grabbing your bag you sprint toward the nearest populated street.

People seem to think it’s best to stick to the outskirts when you went on the run but really the more people around you the better your chances. Especially when dealing with someone who obviously wants to stay off the radar.

In front of a busy touristy restaurant, you note a valet. Perfect.

You felt bad about knocking the kid unconscious, and a Mercedes wasn’t exactly low-key, but right now it was run or be killed, or worse… captured.

As you drive, you try to sort through the images that sunk in from this Brock. No other personal information but his first name had come to you but you saw training that didn’t look to be U.S. military, a fleeting glimpse of an emblem that looked like an octopus, and some sort of ceremony that made you think of videos you had seen of Nazi Youth rallies. You were certain that he was still a lackey. Just a pawn sent by someone to collect you. Because he had said ‘fuck you up’ not ‘kill you.’ Those were two very different things.

Then there was the emotion you gathered from him, conviction. This was something beyond just some crime syndicate. No. That level of devotion was fanatical. He enjoyed hurting you, he was enjoying it because he thought there was some deeper purpose he was serving by doing it.

Every part of you wants to warn Natasha. Be able to tell her something to signify that things have gone very wrong with this gig. Sadly, the two of you hadn’t thought that far ahead. Right now the only thing you could do was get the hell out of Turkey, head into some nondescript European city and wait for her call.

- Post Snap -

You run your finger around the edge of your crystal tumbler, making the glass sing. While you hadn’t gone to your room you had switched to a corner booth. A few tables down a man is on his side on the bench, curled up, weeping softly.

You envy him. Other than a few stray tears weeping hadn’t come to you. Falling apart couldn’t happen, not yet. Even when you saw your team turn to fucking dust you hadn’t cried, just stared in horror. Shock maybe. Or maybe at this point in your life, you were just too broken to show quite that much emotion. Who knew?

Brock. the name rolls around in your head. Brock fucking Rumlow. If only you had gotten his last name then. Maybe if that had come to you so many things would be different… better… maybe then you wouldn’t be sitting in this hotel bar at the end of the world wondering if you were too broken to properly mourn.

Rage, red and hot begins to fill you. Not just at him but at them all… everything and everyone who seemed determined to make your life hell. You shake with the emotion, the energy from it welling inside you, making the space between your brows ache.

The bartender, leaning on the counter and staring into space, suddenly looks in your direction. Instinct telling her what her other senses can’t. That someone or something here is very… wrong. A threat she can perceive though she can’t tell what it is or why she’s feeling this. You force yourself to take a deep breath, quelling the anger inside you just a touch. She seems to relax once you’re no longer flinging your emotions into the room.

Once again you turn your thoughts back to your memories. Something to ground you so you didn’t send the room into a frenzy on accident.

Dublin, that was where you landed after Turkey. A part of you had wanted to head back to the states but that fucker was obviously American and you wanted to be close enough to get to Natasha quickly.

Thankfully, her time in the Red Room was short and you were only there for a few weeks before the message came through to meet her in Prague.

- February 2005 -

You sit at the bar of the mid-range hotel Natasha chose sipping on a Makers. You’re on edge, had been for weeks ever since your run in with Brock. All your digging had brought up nothing but dead ends and cold leads. However, three days ago, the agreed payment had been deposited into one of your accounts.

You didn’t touch it. Still weren’t sure you would. All efforts to backtrack the transaction led nowhere. Whoever that employer had been they were a ghost now. It left the worst taste in your mouth that even the Makers couldn’t drown.

You sense her before seeing her. Her aura louder than a siren. Your heart skips a few beats and a smile fills your face. Spinning on your bar stool you look to the lobby. Her sleek black trench conceals her figure and large sunglasses hide much of her face, still, she has the presence of a stunning woman. Your woman.

Natasha’s eyes light on you and it feels like you’re caught in the best kind of electrical storm. All your hair is on end your skin tingling just by her looking at you and smiling. Damn.

She nods toward the elevator and walks away. You leave a tip on the bar and follow her.

Just to be safe you don’t acknowledge one another at the elevator. Well, no more than two strangers would. Just smile and nod while looking to passersby that you’re standing in companionable silence. Nothing gives away the fact that the air between you is on fire with emotion. The doors slide open and somehow you maintain composure on the ride up.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life. The wait as you were bleeding from that stab wound was less intense. When you finally close the door to the room nothing in the whole damn world could keep you from one another.

Immediately you press her against the wall, desperate to taste her kiss. Gripping her shoulders you press your lips to hers. It feels like the first breath you’ve taken in weeks. Her body melts into yours immediately. Reaching up you pluck the sunglasses from her face and toss them away.

Emeralds peek from beneath her lashes. The circles under her eyes only making the color all the more striking. On her right cheekbone is the ghost of a bruise. Tenderly you press a kiss to it. Without a word she opens the memory to you, a woman’s swift backhand cracking over her face. It didn’t matter. You had her now.

Pulling back your hands find hers. Gently you tug her to the bed. At the foot, you slip your fingers into the knot of the trench coat belt and undo it before sliding the garment to the floor. She takes your chin in her hand and pulls you into another kiss and you slide your hands around to the back of her skirt tugging the zipper down.

As her skirt slides down her hips you do the same, slowly sinking to your knees before her. You hook your fingers into the lace of her underwear and pull them to her ankles, holding her gaze. Her nails dig through your thick curls and scratch your scalp, sending tingles through your body as you bring your mouth to her, sucking a bit, teasing.

When the small moan of pleasure tumbles from her, you grab her hips and push her back onto the plush bed. Surrendering she tumbles back, with more grace than should be allowed, her legs tangled in her heels, skirt, and underwear dangle from the edge. Freeing her of the skirt and underwear, you slip the killer heels from her feet and run lingering kisses up her legs.

Goosebumps cover her creamy skin and her breathing is ragged. A part of you wants to tease her, drag this out, take time ridding her of blouse before having her but you’re not that strong-willed, unfortunately. Your lips press gently against her folds, tongue just barely tracing the outline of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs as her sips lift and her fingers tangle in your hair. When your tongue flicks across her clit she cries out just a little and the burning in the base of your abdomen ticks up a notch.

Yes. This is what you both need. Forget everything else. Right now there’s just this. Just the taste of her, the sound, her fingers in your hair. This was everything.

You suck at her clit, your nails digging into her thighs and she shudders with pleasure. Sliding two fingers into her you can tell she’s already on the edge, thighs shaking, breath ragged. Yes. You plunge as deep as you can, fingers curling just a touch, rolling her clit under your tongue.

“Y/N!” She cries, “Please baby. Oh, fuck!” Her hips buck up and you press them down hard with your left forearm holding her steady.

Her orgasm crashes into the both of you like a fucking hurricane. Holding your head steady her body practically convulses and you feel her walls contract against your fingers as you fuck her through it. Beyond the physical her emotions and pleasure curl into your body setting you on fire. This is very new and absolutely fucking incredible.

“Natasha,” you breathe out. You feel almost drunk as she guides you onto the bed.

Your head hits the pillow and you watch her slip the woven white blouse over her head revealing a lacy bra. You were so used to seeing her in tactical dress that it takes your breath away.

“You’re fucking beautiful you know,” you drawl taking her in. She smiles and lowers to your face kissing you deeply as her hands unbutton your jeans. Releasing the kiss she works them off you. You lean up and tear your tee off, desperate to feel her body pressed to you. Hovering over you she smiles as she presses her right thigh against your center, already slick. Your eyes flutter closed, the mix of emotions coming from her truly intoxicating.

“I say,” she whispers before kissing you, “we don’t leave this room for 24 hours.”

That was the best idea you’d heard from her yet